


before we sleep

by i_nq



Series: to be bound [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Sleepy Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_nq/pseuds/i_nq





	before we sleep

Maethren is lying on his stomach with one leg bent, knee pressing into the bed. He’s got one arm underneath his pillow and the other is trapped close to his body, hand curled near his face. His vallaslin trails up his back, lines bolder than those on his face, and wrap around his sides, following the lines of his ribcage. Maethren’s hair is pushed back from his forehead, but a few traitorous strands graze his cheekbones.

The legs of his pants have ridden up, exposing the thick muscle in his calves and the thin blanket he uses has been kicked to the end of the bed. 

A fond smile edges it’s way onto Tal’ren’s face. Maethren looks soft this way, and it’s a vivid reminder of just how much he’s changed.

Tal’ren leans his staff against the bookcase, closes the cracked balcony doors, and starts pulling at his robes. They fall to a heap on the floor and he tells himself he’ll pick them up tomorrow.

For now, he wants nothing more than to sleep.

Crawling into bed is a blessing. He twists his earrings to pull them out and sets them gently on the side table, taking a moment to assure they won’t roll off. When he turns back, Maethren’s watching him, brown eyes shining in the low light.

Maethren hums, hands already reaching for Tal’ren. He’s always been a tactile person; not that Tal’ren minds, of course. His own hands reach out to trail across Maethren’s back, brushing against the light scar on his shoulder blade. 

“I wondered how long it was going to take you,” Maethren murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. He blinks blearily, gaze trailing across Tal’ren’s face. 

“I was enjoying the view,” Tal’ren says, and he laughs softly when Maethren huffs and presses his face into his pillow.

“Not much to look at,” Maethren grumbles, rolling on his back to rub at his wrist. He pushes his thumb deep into the skin, flexing his fingers with each pass. The mark glares back at them, angry and green. Maethren clenches his jaw and closes his fist around it, minimizing the eerie glow.

Tal’ren takes his hand, kisses the back of it, and cups it gently in his own. He casts a few spells to minimize the ache, and his magic spreads in golden tendrils around Maethren’s palm, lapping softly at the edges of the mark.

Maethren relaxes almost instantly, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Feels nice,” he slurs, eyes already fluttering shut. He presses his foot against Tally’s leg and shifts closer.

In moments, he is asleep. Tal’ren doesn’t call his magic back until the small tears around the mark have firmly knitted themselves back together.

He pulls the flames from the candles and when his exhaustion finally nudges at him, Tal’ren lets it gently coax him to sleep.


End file.
